Misplaced Senses
by kajibot
Summary: The Inquisitor and the Commander have a communication problem, and Cole is just trying to help.
1. Chapter 1: Misplaced Soldiers

She didn't notice him huddled in her throne, wide-eyed and still. He did not mean to fall asleep there; he'd just been curious about the self-important chair since it arrived, laden with long, sharp spikes of iron pointing every which way. She was preoccupied, wringing her hands and pacing back and forth, muttering under her breath.

Cole considered his options carefully. He could slip away unnoticed or he could alert her to his presence. _Or stay hidden_, he thought. He gave in to curiosity and settled into a crouching position atop the uncomfortable, cushion-less seat.

He didn't necessarily mean to intrude, but the Inquisitor was doing a poor job at keeping her thoughts private. She was clearly overwhelmed and he had trouble making sense of her jumbled thoughts.

She was frightened, of that he was sure. F_rightened of what?_ he wondered, leaning closer. He read her guilt. _So many dead. Should have done more. Could have found another way._

_I have seen the throne of the Gods. And it was empty._ Something about that unnerved her. She had never been particularly devout, but she always took for granted that there was some higher power-be it the Maker or something else-watching over them.

Cole reached out tentatively to soothe her mind, but was burdened by yet another thought.

_He must hate me. He hasn't said a word to me since we played chess._ She was thinking about the Commander, he realized. Interspersed with the worry and self loathing were wistful thoughts about how soft his red, fur mantle looked and how his curly, blonde hair would feel between her fingers.

Cole stayed in the great hall for some time after the Inquisitor retreated to her quarters, thinking. There wasn't much he could do to assuage her grief or her confusion about the coming battles. But perhaps there was another way he could help.

He smiled, getting out of the horrible, oversized chair, a plan halfway devised.

* * *

><p><strong>The Courtyard<strong>

Cullen wandered into the courtyard. He didn't often have time to himself but when he did, he enjoyed strolling through Skyhold's garden. The native willows and crowberries interspersed with medicinal herbs and elfroot perfumed the air with a soothing scent. The morning was young and crisp; all was quiet save the scurrying of workers who had been up since before the crack of dawn. The sun barely crested the eastern wall, casting an orange glow throughout the tranquil courtyard. Cullen took a moment to savor the peace and quiet.

His reverie was soon interrupted by a jovial voice.

"Ah, Commander!" the Tevinter mage greeted from the bench under the gazebo, "What a glorious morning! Fancy a quick game of chess before the hustle and bustle steals you away?"

"Nothing is ever quick with you, Dorian," Cullen responded, cracking his knuckles as he approached the chessboard. "Back for another flogging, already? I didn't take you for a masochist."

Dorian chuckled.

"Hah, if you win, you can flog me to your heart's content. I might like it," the mage said with a wink.

Cullen winced. He'd walked right into that one.

"I, uh - That would be unnecessary," he said, lifting the chess board top to retrieve the pieces inside. "Let's just stick to the - where are all the chess pieces?"

Dorian peered into the empty box.

"Odd," he said and squinted, scanning the garden. The glint of a crystalline pawn caught his eye. "Look! There's one right there."

Cullen walked over to pick up the pawn laying on the pebbled path. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another twinkle from under the veranda and pointed, "There's another."

Dorian noticed another one by the entrance to the great hall.

"Looks like someone's left us a trail of chessmen!" Dorian remarked. "How intriguing!"

Cullen eyed the pieces suspiciously. "This has to be some sort of trick."

"Well, I'd take this over a trail of bloody corpses any day. Come on, let's see where this leads."

* * *

><p><strong>The Great Hall<strong>

The two men stepped into the Great Hall, eyes peeled for more tiny chess pieces. Cullen saw one on the floor by a servant girl's feet.

"Pardon me, I just need to get the - " he tried to reach around the girl to collect the white knight trapped between her and the wall. The girl squealed and tripped into his arms.

"Oh my!" she swooned breathlessly, leaning against him. "Thank the Maker you were here to catch me!"

Her little fingers clutched his mantle, pulling it askew. Cullen cast a helpless look at Dorian, silently pleading for help. Dorian rolled his eyes before swooping in to save the Commander.

"There you are, my tulip!" he exclaimed, pushing the girl off as he pulled the Commander into his arms. He planted a smacking kiss square on Cullen's forehead. "I've been searching everywhere for you! Let's go, darling - "

He suavely dipped down and grabbed the chess piece, winked at the confused servant girl, and dragged the flustered Commander away. When they were a safe distance, Cullen shrugged off Dorian's arm with a groan.

"Well, that will give our staff something to gossip about," he grumbled. He adjusted his fur mantle and tried to collect what was left of his dignity.

"Oh, don't you worry," Dorian grinned. "It's a minor setback. The girls will go back to spying on you in the showers in no time."

"The girls do _what_ - "

"There, there." Dorian pointed at another chess piece on the floor. "Look, another fallen soldier."

As Cullen grabbed it, he noticed a sixth piece wedged into the doorway that led to the Inquisitor's quarters. He froze, suddenly feeling very nervous.

"There must be more inside," Dorian said, noticing it as well. "Come on!"

Cullen hesitated. "That doesn't seem like a good idea. The Inquisitor would not want to be disturbed. Unless... has she returned to Skyhold yet?"

Dorian widened his eyes as something dawned on him. _Oh, that clever fox._ A mischievous smile spread across his mustachioed face.

Cullen raised his eyebrows, still in the dark. "What is it?" he asked, curious. Dorian shook his head, still smiling from ear to ear.

"Spit it out if you have something to say," he demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

Dorian pushed open the door to the Inquisitor's quarters. "Nothing at all, Commander," he gestured. "After you."

* * *

><p><strong>The Inquisitor's Quarters<strong>

Cullen tiptoed up the stairs slowly, holding his breath. He racked his brain, trying to remember if the Inquisitor was still off hunting giants in the Emerald Graves. If he recalled correctly, she wasn't due back until the end of the week. He picked up the black, crystal queen halfway up the stairs.

He paused, straining his ears.

"For the love of Andraste," Dorian griped from behind him, "Not that your posterior isn't a perfectly pleasant view, but will you please pick up the pace?"

At Cullen's glare, he quickly added, "Ser."

"I am not accustom to sneaking around in ladies' bedrooms," Cullen grumbled.

He peered through the railing into the Inquisitor's room. Maker's breath, she was a mess. Her bed was unkempt, papers were piled up haphazardly on her desk, and for a woman who spent most of her time in armor, she had an ungodly amount of clothes strewn about the floor. Was that a half-eaten sandwich on her chair next to a pile of arrows?

Cullen frowned. "I thought women were generally supposed to be neat."

"You have much to learn about our lovely Inquisitor, my friend," Dorian patted him on the back. He pointed to another chess piece on the floor. "There's your black bishop by the bathroom door."

"Do I dare wonder what state her bathroom's in?" Cullen sighed. He pocketed the piece, then opened the bathroom door.

* * *

><p><strong>The Inquisitor's Bathroom<strong>

Every single muscle in her body was sore. Ebris grimaced as she lowered herself into the steaming bath one of the Skyhold staff had prepared for her. Every inch of her body felt bruised. Giant-slaying in the Emerald Graves was usually a good way for her to relieve tension with her troop, but she'd gotten cocky and charged into a skirmish without keeping an eye on her flank. A deadly mistake.

She generally stayed back from the fray and weakened the behemoths with well-placed arrows as Blackwall or Cassandra hacked at their legs. This time, however, she'd gotten distracted and it proved to be her undoing. Before she knew it, a second giant had joined the fight. He had casually picked her up and had tossed her into a giant bear - seriously, where had _that_ come from? - like she was nothing but a sack of potatoes. They had barely made it out of that fight alive.

The hot water soothed her limbs and she sighed, grateful for the relief. The fireplace next to the tub was lit, warming the room and smelling absolutely divine.

"Oh, sweet Maker!"

Ebris shot up, instinctively grabbing the iron fire poker, ready to assault the intruder. Her eyes widened at the sight of her extremely red, extremely slack-jawed Commander. She gave a little shriek and covered her breasts with both arms, dropping the poker into the water.

"Inquisitor!" he quickly slapped a hand over his eyes. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

He backed out of the room and ran down the stairs past a laughing Dorian. Ebris quickly rose and grabbed a towel, wrapping it tightly around her body before stepping out of the comfort of her bath.

"Care to explain?" she crossed her arms, eyeing the laughing mage suspiciously. Dorian looked like he was about to answer before laughter overtook him again. He just shook his head and followed the Commander down the stairs, chortling the whole way down.

* * *

><p>As soon as they were back in the great hall, Cullen spun around and shoved the Tevinter mage against the stone wall.<p>

"You _knew_ she was back!" he accused, face red from anger and embarrassment. "You _knew_ and you still let me creep around her quarters like a - a depraved _schoolboy._"

"In my defense - " Dorian said, trying to keep his composure. It didn't last very long. "It was very funny."

Cullen growled and threw his arms up in the air. He stalked back to his office, trying to ignore the uncomfortable tightness in his breeches and the jitters in his stomach.

* * *

><p><strong>The Commander's Office<strong>

He was trying extremely hard to concentrate on a report from Ser Barris, but images of a naked Inquisitor kept creeping, unbidden, into his mind. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to shake the dangerous thoughts away. Ever since they had escaped Corypheus in Haven, he had found himself thinking about her more and more in an increasingly unprofessional way. Being near her had almost become unbearable. All he could think about was how she felt in his arms as he carried her, half-dead, out of the blizzard.

Just as he had mustered up the courage to ask her how she felt about him, rumors that she and Warden Blackwall had been getting closer started circulating Skyhold. He even heard that the Warden had been seen visiting her quarters at night. That quickly put a damper to any plans he had of foolishly confessing his feelings to the Inquisitor.

He could still daydream, though. Cullen put the report down and leaned back in his chair, giving in to the fantasy. He imagined her there, sitting on his desk facing him. She would take off her helm and shake her dark hair loose with a small smile. He'd be captivated by her pale green eyes rimmed with long, dark eyelashes. She would bite her lip nervously and her hands would fumble with the side straps holding her prowler mail together. Then, she'd -

Three sharp knocks snapped him back to reality.

"Come in," he called, regaining his composure.

The door opened and in stepped the subject of his daydream. Maker preserve me, he swallowed nervously.

"Good morning, Commander," she greeted and closed the door behind her. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. "Notice how I knocked before coming in? That's generally what civilized people do."

Her voice was light and her smile implied she was joking. Still, he felt the back of his neck heat up in embarrassment.

"Inquisitor, I am truly appalled at my behavior," he apologized. "It was unacceptable and will not happen again. You have my word."

Her smile faltered, almost unnoticeable.

"Yes, I'm sure the experience was horrifying for you," she said. He must have imagined disappointment in her voice.

"No! I mean, yes, Uh - " he found himself tongue tied. _Hold it together_, he growled at himself, _You are the Commander of the Inquisition's forces. Act like it._

"I take it you recovered all your chess pieces?" she asked.

Cullen sighed, relieved at the change in topic.

"I did, in fact," he responded. "Although I'm still investigating the culprit of this tasteless prank."

"Probably Sera," she joked, then realized that there was a high probability that it was, in fact, Sera.

"That would not surprise me," he smiled. "I will have my people question her thoroughly."

Ebris laughed. She took a few steps closer, hands held behind her back. "Well," she said, "now that you have a complete set, would you care for game? I promise I won't try to cheat this time."

Cullen cursed the pounding in his chest, reminded of why he tried to keep her at a distance. He was a leader and had an example to set; he couldn't do it when she flustered him the way she did. It just wouldn't be appropriate, especially since she was involved with somebody else.

"Perhaps another time, Inquisitor," he declined, gesturing to the paperwork on his desk, "I'm currently reviewing an urgent report from Ser Barris. He expects a response from me by this evening. I fear the mages in the Markham circle have grown ... restless, to say the least."

"Of course, Commander," she nodded with a tight smile. "I'll leave you to your work."

He couldn't help but feel a little guilty as she turned around and closed the door behind her.

* * *

><p>Cole watched the disappointed Inquisitor leave the frustrated Commander's office. He perched on his ledge above Cullen's desk, perplexed. His plan should have worked. The Inquisitor and the Commander were like two ships passing silently in the dark. He made them see each other. Why didn't it work?<p>

He studied the Commander, who was ignoring his important paperwork. The tall man had stood up and was pacing his office, clearly distracted. The pieces of the puzzle suddenly fell into place. Cole realized that he had greatly miscalculated the problem. They weren't two ships passing silently in the dark. One of the ships was purposefully running away. But why?

He could help, if only they would let him. Why didn't they want to be happy? The solution seemed so easy. He would have to try again.


	2. Chapter 2: Misplaced Clothing

**The Commander's Chambers**

Cullen woke up in time to see the sky open up upon him. He cursed, quickly rolling off the bed as he was pelted with fat raindrops. He would have Ser Morris' head. Every week, the man said his ceiling was next on the task list for Skyhold's construction crew and every week, his ceiling was still a big, blasted hole. "Next week!" the blighter had insisted, "Sister Leliana had an emergency requisition. We won't get your supplies until the next caravan makes it back. One more week of sleeping under the stars shouldn't trouble you much, eh?"

He skipped his morning stretches and went straight to his chair to put on his armor, only to be greeted by an empty chair. He looked around the room, confused. Every night, he laid his armor out on the chair. Perhaps he had actually hung it up? Frowning, he opened his wardrobe. Empty. There was nowhere else for the armor to hide, except perhaps - he checked under the bed. Nope. Empty.

He climbed down the ladder to his office where Lieutenant Berand was waiting, punctual as ever, ready to recite the morning report. The officer speechlessly stared as his Commander strode, naked and wet, to the desk and looked under it.

"Lieutenant!" Cullen barked, waving his finger in Berand's general direction. "I'll need you to strip."

Berand dropped his clipboard and stammered, "I don't understand - "

"Your armor, Lieutenant," Cullen said impatiently, "I require your armor. Strip."

"But what will I - " he started. Cullen glared and he gulped down his protests. "Right away, ser."

Lieutenant Berand fumbled his way out of his armor. When he had stripped down to his smallclothes, he looked anxiously to the Commander. "Uh, ser, will you also be needing - "

"For Andraste's sake, no."

Berand sighed, relieved.

* * *

><p><strong>The Armory <strong>

Cullen made it to the armory in record time, surprising Cassandra as he burst through the door. She raised both eyebrows at his disheveled state. His armor didn't seem to fit quite right; pauldrons hung awkwardly off his broad shoulders, clanging into a lopsided breastplate. It was hardly a look befitting a man of his station. He glared at her amused expression.

"Don't say a word," he warned, wasting no time rummaging through the shelves. He was on the hunt for his armor, but at this point, _any_ armor would do, really. Lieutenant Berand was a significantly shorter man than he and the borrowed breeches were starting to pinch in uncomfortable places.

"I would not dream of it," she said. She watched as he scoured the entire room.

"To the void with this," he finally threw his hands up, frustrated. "This is an armory. Where is all the armor?"

"May I speak now?" The Seeker asked. Cullen rolled his eyes and nodded. She smirked, "Somebody emptied out the armory last night. Ser Morris already has a team investigating the incident."

"That would have been nice to know _before_ I turned the room inside out."

Cassandra shrugged, feigning innocence. "I was instructed not to speak. What was I to think?" She looked at him curiously, "Why are you in need of armor? Do you not have a spare set?"

"No," Cullen answered, confused. "Do you?"

"I have three."

"Sounds like a luxury," Cullen couldn't keep the hint of jealousy out of his voice. "It doubt it would have mattered, though. Whoever took my armor didn't even have the decency to leave my underp- ah, What I mean to say is that they took everything."

Cassandra made a disgusted noise. "It is hardly luxury to value cleanliness," she said flatly. "You should place a requisition request for another set. Perhaps the Inquisitor can even slay you a great bear for another ridiculous mantle."

Cullen snorted and left, letting the door slam a little on his way out.

* * *

><p><strong>The Dining Hall <strong>

Cullen stalked through the kitchens en route to the dining hall, grabbing a hard boiled egg and a thick slice of crusty bread. The kitchen staff was visibly annoyed at his intrusion, but did not protest. He generally did not go through the kitchen, but he was running late and had no patience to be served today.

Josephine and Leliana were already sitting at their table when Cullen entered. He made his way toward them, trying not to pull at where Berand's pants were riding up. The breastplate made it difficult to breathe. He dropped onto the bench across from them, grimacing as the slightly-too-small greaves dug into the backs of his knees. The two advisors watched as he cracked his egg on the wooden table and started peeling it without a word of hello.

"Your delightful mood is a pleasure as always, Cullen," Josephine remarked, stirring fruit into her oatmeal. He grunted in response. "Let us hope it is not contagious."

"Hush, Josie," said Leliana, her voice light. "Do not tease our Commander. He's simply anxious in the Herald's absence. You've become quite taken with her, Cullen."

"Do not believe everything your birds say, Spymaster," he mumbled, mouth full, as the two women grinned at each other. Leliana graced him with a lyrical laugh.

"Oh, they are _never_ wrong, Commander," her eyes twinkled knowingly. "I also do not require agents to behold the look of adoration that glazes over your face at the war table. Sometimes there is even drool."

Cullen coughed as he swallowed and bits of egg flew across the table, landing in Josephine's oatmeal. She made a disgusted face and pushed it aside. He could feel the heat rise up from his neck and he tugged at his collar anxiously.

"By the Maker, can we _please_ talk about something else?" he all but begged. He grabbed Leliana's cup of water and took a deep gulp, choking when he realized, too late, that it was actually hot tea.

"Aha! Your blush betrays you," Leliana teased. She flashed him a triumphant smile and pulled her tea back.

"I think it is adorable," Josephine chimed in, reaching over to pat Cullen's arm. "Though I suspect several of our lady guests from Val Royeaux will be most disappointed when they hear of this development."

"When they hear of - " Cullen scowled, exasperated. "Is this what the Inquisition's top advisors are reduced to? Flagrant gossip and spreading tales of fancy? Andraste preserve us all."

They seemed to take pleasure in his discomfort. He started ripping into his bread.

"Apologies, Commander," Leliana said, quickly adopting a calm, collected demeanor. "Did you have a serious matter to discuss?"

Her playful tone turned somber so suddenly, Cullen was reminded that the capricious smile she often donned was but one of her many masks. He really was completely out of his element when the two ganged up on him.

"In fact, I do," he announced, "Somebody has seen fit to disrespect the Inquisition by stealing our supplies. They have completely raided our armory."

Josephine lifted an eyebrow. "Did this _somebody_ raid your closet as well, Cullen?"

"Yes," he admitted. "A direct insult that must be dealt with immediately and with severity. Sister Leliana, can you spare agents to look into the matter?"

"There are several agents at my disposal," she said, lifting the corners of her mouth ever so slightly. She took a slow, deliberate sip of her tea. "However, I will not dispatch them to investigate an obvious prank. Surely there are better uses for the Inquisition's resources."

Cullen focused on Leliana, narrowing his eyes. "By making a mockery of me, they presume to undermine my authority. This behavior _must_ be taken seriously."

Without warning, Josephine produced a pair of breeches from under her seat and dropped them unceremoniously on the table. Cullen stared for a moment, not comprehending what was happening.

"Tell me something, Commander," Josephine's eyes twinkled. Leliana covered her mouth, concealing her smile. "Do you sew your own name on the inside of your breeches or does your mother - "

"Where did you find these!" he interrupted, quickly snatching them away. They left a large streak of water across the table. He furrowed his brow. "And why are they wet?"

Josephine leaned back with a smug smile. He wrung them out over the floor.

"I found them on my desk," she informed him, then helpfully added, "You... might want to wash them thoroughly before putting them on. A spider hatched eggs right in the middle of my desk this morning. It was absolutely terrifying. Horrible, little baby spiders crawling everywhere." She shivered at the memory. "Hence, the water."

Leliana shot the Ambassador an incredulous look. "You dumped water on your desk because of spiders? Were you trying to drawn them?"

"It made sense at the time!" Josephine defended her actions. "Just be happy I didn't set the room on fire."

Cullen rolled up the wet breeches and stood up, appetite completely gone. He excused himself from the table, leaving his half-eaten bread behind with the two giggling advisors.

* * *

><p><strong>The Great Hall <strong>

Varric Tethras sat in his usual place at the Great Hall amidst troves of pearls, silks, and golden masks. Despite the stormy weather, or perhaps because of it, Skyhold's main hall was packed with what seemed to be the entirety of Orlais' nobility. He stifled a sneeze as a Comptess breezed past him, tickling his nose and chest-hair with her feathers.

He was ready to pack up and find a more secluded area when he caught sight of the Commander snaking through the crowd, looking surlier than usual. Varric suppressed the urge to chuckle at Cullen's befuddled expression as the man attempted to push his way through the blockade of manicured smiles and lace that had manifested without warning. His usually well-coiffed hair was in disarray and his armor looked, well, uncomfortable to say the least.

"Cheer up, Curly," Varric called, unable to hide his laughter. "The brooding makes you meat to the vultures!"

The Commander waded through the sea colorful petticoats toward where Varric and Bianca sat. He looked dangerously close to slamming his head repeatedly on the scaffold. Varric caught him subtly trying to adjust the breeches that were clearly not his.

"New haircut, right? Or is it lifts," Varric tapped his chin, pretending to rack his brain. "You do look taller. Oh, I know, you got a tan!"

"I do enjoy sunning on the Storm Coast. It's just so lovely this time of year," Cullen's voice dripped with sarcasm. He shook off the last of his admirers by waving something wet at them. Were those... pants? Varric recognized one of the ladies as she dropped to the ground dramatically.

"I knew something looked different about you," Varric winked and pulled Bianca onto his lap for a good polishing.

"You're acute observational skills never cease to impress," Cullen said dryly. The day had barely begun and he'd clearly had enough of it. He kept fidgeting in his tight armor. "If you must know, I'm borrowing Lieutenant Berand's armor. It is a little small in - places."

Varric laughed, not bothering to ask him why he was borrowing another man's armor or, more specifically, why he was borrowing _that_ man's armor. Berand was at least a foot shorter than the Commander.

"That explains the bug up your butt expression," he joked, using his sleeve to rub at Bianca's limbs. At Cullen raised a threatening eyebrow, he continued, "You know, I almost didn't recognize you without your mane of red glory. You look less intimidating."

Cullen frowned at that.

"You should be careful," Varric advised, "People might start to believe you're not actually a lion."

The Commander's face dropped completely. He couldn't hide his discomfort without his usual fur collar covering his naked pauldrons and blushing neck.

"It's intolerable," the blonde man sighed loudly, running a gloved hand through his mussed up hair. "Nobody's fainted at the sight of me yet."

Though he was feigning offense, Varric could tell that he was truly bothered. The Commander was used to people scurrying at the sight of him..

"With the exception of Lady Brasha, you mean," Varric nodded toward the group of noble women fussing around the Lady who had fainted. She was still lying limp on the ground. "So you really can make women swoon with just a glance in their direction. That sounds handy."

"What? - Maker's breath," Cullen muttered, taking in the scene. Varric swore he saw Lady Brasha's eyes flutter open momentarily and immediately squeeze shut when she saw Cullen looking over. He couldn't help but admire her gall.

"I owe the Seeker another chapter of _Swords & Shields_," Varric sighed ruefully. "It appears that your power source isn't in that magnificent mantle."

He'd had an ongoing wager with Cassandra ever since they settled in Skyhold. With the Inquisition's newfound status-thanks to Ruffles wasting no time inviting foreign diplomats and entertaining visiting nobility-came an influx of inquiries about their dashing Commander's lineage and romantic status. The Seeker claimed that the women-and men-pined for the Commander's hair while Varric insisted it was the fur mantle they wanted to get their hands on.

Yet here their illustrious Commander stood, mantle-less, still making the ladies drop like flies.

"I am the Commander of the Inquisition's forces," Cullen snorted, clearly affronted. "That carries weight."

Varric snorted back. The Commander really was clueless about his effect on impressionable young ladies. Next, he'd think that the women wanted him for his charm and wit.

"No," Varric pointed up at the Commander's curls. "It's in your _hair_."

"Why do I even bother?" Cullen sighed. "Just keep a lookout for my missing armor, if you would. Somebody needs to pay for this."

"Will do, Curly," Varric agreed with a nod. The Commander flung the wet thing-seriously, were those_ breeches_?-over his shoulders and stiffly walked toward the exit.

Sudden, Varric remembered something that seemed important.

"Oh, does that include Buttercup running out of here with your Lion Helmet about half an hour ago?" he called.

He laughed as Cullen growled then bounded away, presumably to the tavern.

* * *

><p><strong>Herald's Rest Tavern <strong>

Blackwall was sitting at the bar, showing off his new gauntlets for Sera to poke and prod at.

"I found them in the barn, just sitting in a pile of horse shit," he boasted, proud of his find. The scrappy elf paused her poking, fixing him with a stern glare.

"You pilfer them from a stable boy?"

Blackwall chuckled. "Look closer," he instructed, pointing at the beauty on his left arm. Sera eyed it suspiciously. "This here is _silverite_," he explained, knocking on the metal. "It didn't come from a stable boy."

"Hah, stupid Orlesian chevali-whatevers then," she laughed, relaxing. "Good find. It's shiny."

The masked, Orlesian knights had ridden through the courtyard late at night; their trumpeting waking up a disgruntled Sera.

"They feel too good to take off," Blackwall made a quick fist then relaxed his hands. "I even wore them to the gardens this morning."

Sera groaned and slammed her face onto the counter.

"Again with the gardens!" she whined, voice muffled into the wood. She lifted her head to give him a reprimanding look. "You still on about Lady prim and proper? Want to know what _I'd_ do?"

"I really don't," he sighed into his full mug of ale. He wasn't sure if he could bring himself to drink it.

She ignored him. "Forget _flowers_," she said, poking him once with each word. "You plant a proper sized spider on her desk. When she screams, you jump in and _bam_!" She hit one fist into an open palm. "You're the hero. Sorted."

Blackwall shook his head. "I'm not putting a spider on Milady's desk," he dismissed the absurd idea. He flexed his fingers again, admiring the way the soft, Antivan leather yielded effortlessly to his movements. The silverite protecting his arm seemed light, yet strong. The worksmanship truly was impeccable.

"Doesn't have to be a spider," Sera said, undeterred by his inflexibility. "What about those ugly whatchamacallits - the ones with the fat butt and the stinger - "

"No," Blackwall said firmly. He once again moved the mug to his lips, then put it back on the counter, untouched.

Just then, the door swung open, accompanied by a crack of lightning. Blackwall jumped up slightly with a yelp, then coughed, composing himself. He quickly looked around; nobody seemed to hear him. Save Cabot, whose mouth twitched knowingly under his mustache. Blackwall glared at the bartender.

A pissed off Cullen stepped into the lit tavern.

"SERA!" the Commander bellowed.

"Oh, shit," Sera hiccuped. She immediately ducked under the bar and started inching her way to the back of the tavern. "Quick, Beardy! Hide me!"

"Why?" Blackwall asked as she pushed his feet out of the way. "What did you do this time?"

"Lots of things!" she hiccuped again, then laughed before disappearing into the kitchen behind the bartender.

"That's helpful," he said, sharing an amused look with the bartender. That girl was always getting up to no good.

He heard angry footsteps clunk toward him.

"Rainy morning, Commander?" he greeted, pushing the mug of ail toward Cullen. "Care for a drink?"

"In possibly twelve hours, Warden Blackwall."

"No matter," Blackwall waved his hand, "You probably don't drink the swill here anyhow."

Cabot glared at him from behind the bar. Cullen grabbed Blackwall's hand, squinting, "Wait, are those my - "

Blackwall proudly displayed both gauntlets for the Commander.

"Exquisite, aren't they?" He said excitedly. "I found them just lying there in a pile of horse shit. Look at the craftsmanship! Look at the metalwork. Real silverite. And someone just - "

"Those are my gauntlets!" Cullen blurted furiously. The Warden's face fell.

"Are you sure?" he gazed sadly at his hands. "Like I said, they were tossed in the barn like someone didn't give two shits..."

"No, those are my gauntlets," Cullen insisted. "And I would very much like them back."

Blackwall looked crestfallen as he slipped them off and handed them to the Commander. Cullen grabbed them and walked away with a short, "Thank you."

"Should have known they were too nice," Blackwall grumbled, his fingers already missing their warmth. With a wistful sigh, he took a deep drink of his ale.

Cabot crossed his arms and watched as Blackwall downed the entire mug. "How's the swill tasting now?" he said smugly, pouring him another.

* * *

><p><strong>Sera's Room <strong>

Ebris was fuming. Not even an hour after she'd returned to Skyhold, smelling like a wet dog who tried to make it with a burnt corpse, had she discovered Sera's little "gift" in her bedroom. All she had wanted for the past week was to fling herself into her soft, dry bed, but no. She couldn't even have that luxury, not with a certain dark red, fur-trimmed mantle spread over her covers. For a moment, her heart had pounded. Did Cullen leave this? Was this an invitation? She was suddenly assaulted with images of her Commander laying prone on her bed wearing nothing but that soft, fur mantle...

But then, she had came to her senses. Of course it wasn't Cullen. He hadn't said a word to her outside of the War Table.

So that left Sera. Ebris had wasted no time grabbing the mantle and marching over to the tavern to confront the mischievous little elf, only to find her nook completely empty. Fine, she could wait.

There was absolutely no place to sit in Sera's tiny, cluttered nook. Ebris tried clearing off some knick-knacks from the cushioned windowsill, but promptly gave up upon realizing the entire area was soaked. Sera had left the window open. _Of course she did_, Ebris shook her head and pushed it shut. _Where does she even sleep?_

A few minutes later, she heard a sharp rapping on the window pane. Ebris turned to see Sera waving frantically at her from outside her _second floor_ window. She quickly pulled it open to let the wet elf tumble in. For a moment, she forgot her anger, impressed.

"Outgrew the door, did you?" Ebris pushed the window shut again. She shielded herself with Cullen's mantle as Sera shook her head vigorously, sending drops of water every which way.

"Pfft. Doors are for boring people," the elf retorted. She grabbed a dirty shirt to dry her hair with.

"Of course they are," Ebris sighed.

"You smell weird," Sera wrinkled her nose, looking the Inquisitor over. "Like mildew and blood. Aren't you supposed to be out doing hero things?"

"Killed a dragon. How's that for hero things?"

"Friggin' dragons," Sera shuddered, "Thanks for leaving me here."

"I know how much you hate them," Ebris said, then suddenly remembered why she was there. She glared and tossed the mantle to Sera. "Can you explain this?"

Sera caught it and blinked, looking confused. "What, like how they make it?"

"This has your handiwork written all over it," Ebris accused, "I found it on my bed."

"With a certain person under it?"

"No, just the fur."

"That's _brilliant_!" Sera snickered. "So General Uptight's prancing about without his furs. I bet he feels naked." She waggled her eyebrows at the Inquisitor. "You'd like that, yeah?"

"I don't - " she started, surprised.

Sera interrupted with, "You dooooo," then tossed the heavy thing back to the Inquisitor.

Ebris was confused. "So this wasn't you?"

"Did you find his frilly knickers under your pillow?"

"No..."

"Then it wasn't me."

"Right," Ebris gave up. As she turned to leave, she noticed something in Sera's pile of its-not-garbage-its-my-stuff. "Is that Cullen's helmet?"

"What is?" Sera asked innocently. She shifted to block Ebris' view of the helmet shaped as a lion's head. Ebris craned her neck, then shook her head, too tired to care.

"I'll let him deal with you," she sighed, then left.

Sera giggled and waited until the Inquisitor's footsteps faded before grabbing the Lion-shaped helmet and putting it firmly on her head.

* * *

><p>Cole watched, unseen, as the Inquisitor left through the upper level door just seconds before the Commander bounded up the stairs, making a beeline for Sera's room. He smiled.<p>

* * *

><p>Cullen spotted his helmet immediately. It was on the head of a very troublesome elf as she sang a garbled tune and scribbled away at something, likely defiling an official document of some sort. He knocked on the open doorway.<p>

She put her quill down and heaved a sigh, annoyed.

"I already told you, it wasn't - " she froze, seeing the Commander by her door. "Oh arse-biscuits."

Cullen held out his free hand. "Hand it over," he ordered, looking pointedly at her lion-encased head. In his other hand were the gauntlets Blackwall had been showing off and slung over his shoulder was a pair of breeches. He looked so ridiculous standing there, she couldn't help but snort.

"Right," she smiled, putting her hands on her hip. "What do I get for it?"

"You'll get nothing," Cullen informed. He emphasized his words with a glare. "That helmet belongs to me." He glanced around the room. "Where's the rest of my armor?"

Sera tilted her head. "This a trick question?"

"You stole my helmet. What else did you steal?"

"I didn't steal _your_ helmet," she insisted, lifting the Lion's face off her head. "I stole _a_ helmet. Swiped it right off Lady Josie's desk. Figured I was giving some Orlesian nob a what for."

She threw the heavy helmet at him and he caught it, one handed.

"What were you doing in Lady Montileyet's room?" he questioned, tucking the helmet under his elbow.

"Helping!"

He raised an eyebrow and she rolled her eyes.

"Right," she sighed, explaining. "Beardy puts flowers on Josie's desk every morning. Stupid, yeah? So I traded flowers for a big spider. Only it went tits up once I found your lion thingy because I forgot to tell him about it."

"Beardy?" he asked, confused.

Sera rolled her eyes again. "Beardy. Big beard? Warden like?"

Cullen wasn't sure how to comprehend this new information.

"Warden Blackwall brings the Josephine flowers," he repeated slowly, letting the words sink in. He furrowed his brow. "Every morning?"

A minuscule seed of hope planted itself in his stomach. A small smile crept its way up his face, as he asked, "So he and the Inquisitor..."

Sera barked out a laugh. "Look at you, all red and jelly!" she pointed at his face. "That's ancient history."

Cullen was starting to feel lightheaded.

"Right," he said. He straightened, adjusting his grip on his helmet. "That is none of my business. I should go."

Sera shook her head. "I don't get you hero types," she exhaled loudly. "So piney and stuck in the mud. You fancy her, right? So open your pretty mouth and tell her."

"It..." Cullen swallowed. "It's not as easy as it seems."

"It is if you use tongue," she sang, waggling her tongue at him.


End file.
